X: Ezra's a thoughtful kid; he seems to really care about you.
X: In case you didn't realize—let me point it out—he's worried about your anxiety and notices everything about you.
Mesmer Jr.: Just because I have to deal with crazy people doesn't mean I'm one of them.
Mesmer Jr.: If you had half of Ezra's ability to read people, you might understand my reluctance about this.
X: I wouldn't turn him down if I were you.
X shifted his posture slightly, his gaze moving to a display case in the distance.
Surrounded by companion plants, a cluster of white-flowered white dryads, or Dryas octopetala as it was labelled, was in full bloom.
X: It might sound a bit iffy, but if some young kid dragged themselves weather-beaten and food-poisoned to me just to find a way to ease my stress, I'd be more appreciative.
Mesmer Jr.: Food poisoned?
X: From what I heard, he got caught in a blizzard while hunting for those Mandrakes.
X: To stay warm, our mycologist had to eat slices of Trichoderma cornu-damae from the Australian desert. Soon after, he developed a feverish spike in body temperature.
X: It was his way of playing it safe, and it worked out—he braved the blizzard and unearthed that gorgeous Mandrake.
Mesmer Jr.: ...So that's why he seemed so weak. I should've guessed;
X: Don't fret too much; he knows how to take care of himself.
X: After the blizzard cleared, he immediately downed some Red-Flower Prickly Pear juice, to clear out the mushroom's toxins before they could do real damage.
X: By the time he showed up at my door, he was halfway recovered from the poisoning.
Medicine Pocket: And then you two got into all that talk about... "guns" and such?
X: Technically, it wasn't really a gun.
X: But it did shoot a kind of bullet, like little seeds or balls of steel or crystal.
X: Got it. It must've ticked all your boxes and left you feeling pleased.
Ezra: This is... a slingshot?
X: Exactly, it's called the "Air-Compressed Spring Slingshot."
X: You see, it's compact and lightweight, and you don't need any fancy Arcane Skill to use it. The Rube Goldberg inside the copper tube handle does all the work for you.
X pulled back the slingshot, and the small spring spanning across the rubber ducky emitted a soft hum, ready to unleash a chunk of butter.
X: All you have to do is aim and release. It's that simple.
X: The slingshot's bullets come in different flavors, ranging from electric zaps to tiny blasts, scatter shots, and piercing rounds.
X: As long as your aim isn't dreadful, you'll be more or less safe from any mountain critters.
Ezra: I never thought a slingshot could be so powerful...
X: Welcome to the LSCC（Laplace Scientific Computing Center） headquarters, where even a shoe sole can hide a foldable explosive.
X: ...But, from what I've heard, the Australian branch is even wilder than here.
Ezra: Well, you could say that.
Ezra lounged back on the couch, next to him a steaming cup of tea.
He took a careful sip, then winced as it burned his tongue.
Ezra: Phew... But I'm not part of the research department. Technically, I'm a microbiologist, not an inventor...
Ezra: And... I'm sorry I didn't explain what I needed, Mr. X.
Ezra shuffled in his seat, searching out a comfortable position, before straightening up a bit.
Ezra: I don't need lethal weapons.
X: But you do need something to scare off any mountain beasts.
Ezra: Yes... I suppose I just need to make them go away for a while. That should do it.
X: They might follow you, you know. Beasts can be persistent when protecting their territory.
Ezra: I only need them to leave me alone, just for a little while.
Ezra: I wouldn't like to kill them or maim them.
Ezra: You know, I'm planning an exhibition about snowy mountain ecology.
Ezra: ...If I harmed any local wildlife for this exhibition or disrupted their natural ecosystem, it would defeat the purpose.
X: Oh... Okay ...
X sighed, taking a seat.
X: The reports and rumors are true, you really are an incredibly kind kid.
He tossed the magazine onto the couch and pulled out a square plastic bag from his jacket pocket.
X: Take this; you won't need bullets anymore.
Ezra: What is this ...?
Ezra: ...The Little Gardener: Bellflower Seed Home Cultivation Kit?
X: That's right, Bellflower.
With his hands lifted high, X stretched lazily, as if he were a cat basking in the warmth of a sunny afternoon.
X: You can use these inconspicuous little grass seeds as bullets. They're light, and blunt enough.
X: They won't cut flesh or leave a gash, but they'll startle most animals just fine. Paired with the Air-Compressed Spring Slingshot's "thwack", they should scare off any critters you encounter.
Ezra: That's perfect—exactly what I need!
The kind-hearted boy practically bounced off the sofa with excitement, but then...
Ezra: Whoa—!
He tumbled back down.
Ezra: My head... I'm so dizzy...
X: It's a normal symptom.
X: The Red-Flower Prickly Pear juice, as an antidote, induces dizziness about three hours after consumption. They should've warned you about that when you picked them up from the Potionary Department.
X lifted the teapot, refilling Ezra's cup with piping hot tea.
X: Here, have some more tea. It'll make you feel better.
Ezra: Did you brew the tea because you knew I'd be dizzy?
X: To help ease the medicine's effects and to be a good host, two birds with one stone.
X: Still, I suggest you don't rush to leave.
X: I know you're tight on time, but rest is crucial. You can stay here until the dizziness subsides.
Ezra: I understand. I do need to rest.
Ezra: I'll stay here until my body recovers and I'm ready for my next climb.
Ezra cradled the teacup, the light brown liquid swaying within.
Ezra: Hm? This aroma...
Ezra: Is this Dryad Tea?
X: No, it's not. Although they both smell like melted snow, this is just a warming tea made with Croton Gratissimus and Ginger Sting.
X: If I could, I'd make Dryad Tea for you. A cup of that, and you'd be back on your feet in no time.
X: That way, you wouldn't have to languish here, chatting aimlessly with "researchers".
Ezra: Oh don't say that... I'm happy to talk with you.
Ezra struggled to get up from the sofa, but X softly nudged him back into the corner.
X: I was just joking, kid.
X: You know what "humor" is right? Well, scratch that; I should've known that humans lacked that talent.
Ezra: I know plenty of "jokes"... I'm just not good at telling them...
The boy murmured softly as he sipped his tea, huddled into the corner of the sofa.
Ezra: I asked my mom why once, she just said she's not good at telling jokes either.
Ezra: ...Even though my friends say stereotypes don't hold true, it feels like my whole family fits the bill. We're not exactly masters of humor.
X: Well, good humor is only a small part of life; it doesn't matter.
The arcanist said with a wave of his hand.
X: So you lack humor, but you have other strengths.
Ezra: You mean ...?
X: ——Stubbornness.
X blinked.
X: I'm not saying you lack skills, but from what I gather, you're incredibly determined.
X: You discussed your fantastical plan with Dr. Ryan, wrote out your proposal, and executed it meticulously—of course, all things a competent curator should do.
X: But beyond that, you turned down all of the help the Laplace Scientific Computing Center offered.
X: Take our current predicament, for instance, those beasts and birds of prey dwelling in the mountains.
X: If you wanted to handle things simply, Laplace's task force could clear your path with just three sets of tranquilizer darts.
Ezra: Sure, it might take some time for the task force to prepare an operational plan and acquire the necessary equipment.
X: And indeed, they'd need a little time, but they work fast and wouldn't hold up your journey.
X: Your real reason for refusing them isn't that.
Ezra: Right... I have to personally collect these specimens and climb that mountain under my own power.
Ezra: It's the centerpiece of the exhibition, the "thing" I must accomplish.
X: Hmm... So, you believe in hands-on experience when it comes to getting things done?
Ezra: Certainly, just as all naturalists must venture into nature.
Ezra: If you stay away from nature, nature stays away from you... that's what my teacher taught me, isn't... isn't that right?
X: No, it's absolutely right for you.
X: But the world isn't just made up of natural phenomena; there are other manifestations of wisdom as well.
X: Like the hand behind the scenes, manipulating the switches.
X: Look here.
X reached out, rubbing his thumb against his index finger, and a small golden bead appeared in his hand.
X: I could toss this bead, and it would collide between the teacup and the teapot.
X: After that, it would ricochet to the right, knocking down the upright book on the table, which, in turn, would tug on a fishing line, rotating the gas stove switch 75° in a room three doors down and starting to heat a pot of water.
X: As the water boils, the rising steam would melt the chocolate hanging on the cabinet, and the dominoes, now lighter, would tumble down the ventilation shaft to the sixth room downstairs.
Ezra: Downstairs, in the sixth room... that's...
X: Medicine Pocket's research lab.
Ezra: What would happen then?
X: The glass by the potted plants would tip over, spilling water into the soil, and the glass would shatter on the floor.
Ezra: ... All this just to water some plants?
X: Yes. Although it costs a glass, the potted flower won't wither from thirst.
The master of Rube Goldberg mechanics extended his hand, causing the golden bead in the center of his glove to sway before steadying.
X: Do you want to throw this bead?
Ezra: ... Me?
Ezra: I... I suppose not...
Ezra eyed the golden bead in bewilderment, as if it were a monumental choice.
He hesitated but still spoke up.
Ezra: If I need to water that flower, I can just go downstairs, pick up the glass, and pour water into it.
Ezra: ...That would save the glass.
X: Haha, don't worry; I'm not lecturing you on how to do things.
X: I'm just curious why you want to choose the most troublesome, most arduous paths.
X: Any researcher with hands-on experience would want to use our technology; we're all from Laplace after all, and no matter which branch, we stand at the intersection of technology and Arcane Skill, pursuing a great fusion.
X: No one in their right mind would refuse a ladder when climbing simply because it was his habit not to use technology.
Ezra: ......
Ezra closed his eyes, falling silent, then reopened them.
Ezra: Because this mountain is special to me.
Ezra: ...I first learned about it from my family's archives and the stories my mother used to tell me.
Ezra: You could say it's a childhood obsession, but either way, it's something I've longed for since I was a very, very little child.
X: Ah... childhood obsessions. A common theme.
The tilted teapot no longer poured fresh tea; it was light, as if there had been nothing left inside.
X: I knew a child just like you, he also loved the mountains. But unlike you, his yearning for them stems from his love of a particular flower: the white dryads.
X: Those small, white flowers with yellow pistils covered his childhood picture book, to him they represented almost every virtue imaginable.
X set down the teapot and stood up from the sofa.
X: Stand up and try your legs, Ezra. It's about time.
Ezra: Than-thank you.
Ezra: Mm-hmm... Yeah, you're right... The dizziness is gone! I think it's the hot tea. It really got me to sweat out all those toxins.
The boy stretched his body , feeling full of vitality again.
Ezra: I feel almost like I never poisoned myself—I think I could set off again right away.
X: I won't stop you; I'm not your doctor.
The arcanist opened the door as if releasing a bird about to take flight.
X: But if you have some free time, try to enjoy the scenery on the mountain for me.
X: Perhaps there are some lovely white dryads there, perhaps not, but it doesn't matter. Just go and take a look.
Medicine Pocket: So, you're just letting him off the hook like that?
X: I've told you, I'm not a doctor, it's not my job to look after his health.
X: Giving him some hot tea was about as considerate as could be expected of me.
Innocent as ever. X shrugged with a smile.
Medicine Pocket: That's not what I meant; he didn't water my plants, and you still haven't tossed that silly bead either—now I'll probably come back to a bunch of dead plants!
X: ......
X: That's not any of our responsibilities, Medicine Pocket.
X: If you want to keep plants, you've got to take care of them yourself, just like you do with your lab samples.
Medicine Pocket: Those plants aren't my lab samples.
Medicine Pocket: My current project isn't about pest control for plants—
Mesmer Jr.: Let's put an end to this pointless argument and talk about what happened next.
